


THE WILL

by Shtare



Series: Kevin Wymack is a Terrible Name [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Dadmack, Gen, Identity Reveal, Kid Fic, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 03:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21206342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shtare/pseuds/Shtare
Summary: David Wymack receives the last will and testament of Kayleigh Day.____Ten-year-old Kevin Day meets his father for the first time.





	THE WILL

David’s phone rang. The wall-mounted one that no one called anymore. 

He was going out of the door, almost late for practice. The machine could get it. It was more important for him to get to the gym and get the kids running through their paces. 

It took him 25 minutes to get to USC with the traffic. When he pulled up Lyle, was waiting for him outside. Lyle was the USC’s head coach. He was a good guy. Old enough to be David’s father and a real ball-buster on the court and off. They’d worked together for a few years now. Lyle likes to talk about retiring, but David had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. He was laid back, but nothing if not dedicated. 

And he never waited outside for David to show up. 

A shot of adrenaline made his hands shake as he rushed to undo his seatbelt. David took a measured breath before he opened the door and focused on not rushing. 

Lyle held his hands up when he saw his face. David needed to work on the practiced calm thing. His anxiety was getting out of hand. 

“I don’t think it's anything serious, but there's a lawyer in my office. He’s looking for you.” 

David walked through familiar white and red halls. A feeling of dread building in his stomach, stress about what the lawyer could possibly want. Both of David’s parents were dead, and he had no siblings or any other family to speak of. Family wasn’t David’s deal. 

One of the kids did something illegal and didn’t want to tell Lyle. Worse, he was going to have to act like he knew what happened until the lawyer went into detail. 

He was rehearsing plausible deniability when he saw he sharply dressed man. He was Japanese going by his haircut and shoes, and his bow, rather than a handshake.

“David Wymack,” he said, rather than asked, “I am here on behalf of the estate of Kayleigh Siobhan Day.” He presented a Manila envelope like it was on a silver platter, on top of two hands.

“The estate of Kayleigh Day?” When his parents died, their estate manager called him to make sure he was aware that his parents left him nothing. A cold pit formed in David’s stomach and his breakfast threatened to make a reappearance. 

“Tragically, Ms. Day died in an automobile accident in the seventh of this month.”

Today was the fourteenth.

“She died a week ago?” How had the media not plastered this on every television in America? Exy was still gaining momentum as a sport. It didn’t matter to the country, frothing at the mouth to watch a beautiful woman dominate a male-dominated field. She had a fervent online following. Paparazzi followed her everywhere. 

David was suddenly aware of his lack of emotional reaction. He was in survival mode. Questions and answers only. He would have feelings about Kayleigh later. Jesus Christ, she was only 39. She had a kid. Already he felt a specter of grief to come. Thunder before the storm. David was good at pushing his emotions down. He wasn’t looking forward to the resurgence. 

He was barely more than a year sober. Losing someone he loved was an unfamiliar experience. He felt nothing at his parent’s funerals - he was blind drunk at the time. That may have been a factor. 

But _ Kayleigh -- _

“Yes. Ms. Day’s estate was under a three-day moratorium and you were the longest flight.”

His suit did look a little wrinkled. The man looked at the envelope pointedly, and David took it. 

The man bowed and walked out of the office without any further ceremony. 

David stared at the envelope like it was a live grenade, primed to explode in his face What would Kayleigh Day possibly leave to him? She was the leave and cut all ties type. David hasn’t spoken to her since that last night in his apartment, and they didn’t talk much. 

Any envelope from Kayleigh was an envelope that would keep him up at night or put him off his dinner. Really, it didn’t matter what it said. He was resolved to throw it away. It was halfway into the trash before he recognized the handwriting.

Kayleigh Day. His chest throbbed with a familiar combination of longing and affection. A tinge of bitterness for a level of devotion that left him alone and lonely more often than not. Losing her exacerbated every one of his bad habits and brought his anxiety to the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t good at loving people. 

The envelope was thick and stiff with paper. Kayleigh had a whole lot to say to David from beyond the grave. David did not know how long he held the manilla envelope before he tipped the contents into his desk. Three separate bundles of paper were stacked 

The front was a copy of Kayleigh Day’s will. It was slimmer than the morning paper. David put it aside. He preferred to save the legal jargon for his lawyer. 

Behind it, a slim sheaf of white paper, a single sheet of thicker parchment paper with a notary seal behind it and a bundle of photos wrapped in an elastic and held together with a lobster clasp. A small sheet of paper ripped from a flowery refrigerator pad was tucked in front of the photos. 

The paper was lined. Handwritten in pen with Kayleigh’s tight, looping almost-cursive and slanted from her left-handed grip. 

_ Hello David _

Even now, he could hear the sound of her voice in his head. 

_ I am sorry for lying to you._

_I had reasons but they'll mean little to you after my death. _

_I know that you'll do right by him, and if you let yourself, you will love him. He is a good boy and he has so much love to give._

_Tetsuji knows._

_Forgive me,_

_Kayleigh Day _

The note was cryptic in a way entirely unlike Kayleigh. She had no need for subtext. She told you what she wanted and you moved mountains to make it happen. 

Him? David could feel his heart beating double-time in his chest.

Behind the note was a small stack of photos. 

On the top, a young boy old enough to play in the little leagues stood in the sun, backdropped by a wide green field and a tall oak tree. A small, shy smile on his face, both hands behind his back like he was trying to make himself smaller. His skin was tanned brown, eyes squinting in the sun shining from behind the camera. 

The next picture was the same boy, but younger. Sitting on a porch with an Asian boy the same age, their arms wrapped around each other. The two of them were surrounded by a black backdrop - the outside of Evermore stadium. 

The other photos were of the same boy, dark-haired and green-eyed. 

The last two photos pulled David up short. 

A little boy, no older than two, stared out of the image with huge, intense green eyes and a solemn expression that seemed full of unmet expectations. His brown, curly hair was combed away from his chubby cheeks and his impossibly tiny sweater had even tinier buttons down the middle. 

The last photo was of Kayleigh, holding a blue-wrapped bundle in her arms. Her eyes were tired, and an IV ran out of her hand, but she was smiling. The periphery indicated a hospital room. The photo was dated February.

The day Kayleigh had her baby. 

_ You'll do right by him. _

The day Kayleigh had her son.

David resisted the wave of vertigo and grabbed removed the lobster clasp. This time, he started at the back of the stack, with the piece of parchment paper. 

A notarized certificate sat in front of his face, a Certificate of Birth, for Kevin Day.

Kevin Day.

Kayleigh Soibhan Day was typed beside the elaborately scripted _ mother. _

David Wymack was typed next to a similarly decorative _ father _ . David Wymack. No middle name because she never asked so he never told her. His middle name was Vincent, after his father. 

He was glad Kevin didn’t have a middle name. 

David remembered the night the news broke about Kayleigh’s pregnancy. He called her almost immediately, hoping to put an end to the mix of dread and anxiety that threatened to send him into a panic. Kayleigh answered on the second ring, recognizing his number, and launched into a concise, clearly prepared, whirlwind of a speech about how he was positively not the father. David remembered his thoughts during that call when he wondered how many other men had heard the exact words that Kayleigh was saying to him.

He remembered thanking her and hanging up. Maybe he didn't even thank her. He wasn't sure that he said anything at all. 

He wanted to be full of rage but he knew she made the right choice. He had nothing to give a baby and even less to give a little kid. 

I am sorry for lying to you, her letter said. 

With the certificate were a few photocopied pages of her will, even though the complete document came with the folder. A pang threatened to knock him off his feet. She knew he wouldn't read it. No matter how it ended between him, Kayleigh day had known him better than anyone else before, or since. 

The pages were titled: PERTAINING TO THE CARE OF KEVIN DAY

The words hit David’s brain the wrong way like he was in one of those Animal Planet documentaries that Lyle liked to watch on David’s couch in Saturday nights when his wife kicked him out. Like Kevin was a possession, or a pet. The notice sent a wave of anger that burned through the layer of numbness briefly before being stifled by the rising realization of exactly what was sitting in his hands, and what that meant for his future. 

For Kevin’s future. 

For his program. 

David tried to read through the page in stops and starts, each new statement carrying his mind in new directions that left him reading the same sentences multiple times before he noticed to move on.

In no uncertain terms, Kevin Day was to be left in the sole and complete care of his biological father, David Wymack, in the event of his mother’s untimely death. Should David Wymack be unable to assume custody, Kevin would go to Tetsuji Moriyama. Tetsuji knew that David was Kevin’s father and didn’t reach out to him after Kayleigh died. It had already been a week. Clearly, he wanted to keep Kevin. 

For a sickening moment, he considered throwing the papers out and acting like he never got them. 

Except he wasn’t that kind of man. His life goal was essentially cleaning up after athletes' shitty parents. Not showing up was only marginally better than showing up and fucking up. 

He was gonna have to take some unexpected vacation time.

Attached to the cover page were photocopies of Kevin’s history from his decade on the planet. A record of his vaccinations, the contact information for his doctor and at least six pages of summarized doctor’s visits. 

Kevin Day was a perfectly healthy ten-year-old boy with no allergies, ailments, or genetic illnesses of any kind. David did not recognize the inundation of relief that hit his system like a drug. 

The feeling lingered a moment, and he enjoyed it selfishly. 

The rest of the pages outlined Kevin’s education, nutrition plan, pre-pre school education outlines, Kindergarten milestones, first through fourth-grade test scores. The kid had straight As. Straight goddamns As through every year of elementary school. David didn’t understand the standardized test scores but the numbers were high. David was not that smart, not by a long shot. Kayleigh was sharp as a tack and fast a whip. 

A detailed description of his weekly, daily, and hourly schedule. The kid’s life was regulated down to the minute. A religious regiment David would never be able to replicate. He gave up trying as soon as he read it. The kid should get used to being disappointed. 

The last page was Kevin’s little league Exy stats. 

Great Exy stats. Holy shit Exy stats. Class 1 material Exy stats. Court material Exy stats. David spent some time in the little leagues. He never met a kid with Kevin’s stats. The sheer potential - and all of a sudden David knew why Tetsuji didn’t bother to pick up the phone after Kayleigh passed. No one in their right mind would give up an athlete like Kevin, even if he was only ten years old. If anything, Kevin’s tender age made it easier for him to be groomed into Tetsuji’s perfect money maker. 

David was at a loss. For all the information about Kevin, there was remarkably little information _ about Kevin. _

David read between the lines, his thoughts sounding suspiciously like Kayleigh’s voice in his imagination. He could see her in his mind’s eye, staring at him with her knowing eyes and sneering mouth; _ David, if you want to know him, you have to figure him out yourself, just like I had to. _

The last piece of paper was an open-dated, one way, first-class ticket voucher to Baltimore, Maryland. Home of the Edgar Allen Ravens, Tetsuji Moriyama’s team and the top team in NCAA Class 1 Exy. An address was written on the back. Kayleigh’s writing, again. 

Behind that, another ticket, this one international, landing in Tokyo, Japan. Kayleigh has a house in Japan, but the address written on the back of the ticket was not that address. 

A quick online search pulled up the address for Evermore. Kayleigh helped Tetsuji open Evermore. Kevin probably spent a lot of time there. 

He was probably there now. After a week, social services would have contacted David about Kevin - unless he was taken in by Tetsuji, and the Moriyama had gotten someone to sign off on it. 

The tickets were one way. Leave it to Kayleigh to make David buy his own ticket back - 

His own ticket, and Kevin’s.

Lyle appeared at the doorjamb, his bush eyebrows furrowed. He tapped his watch with the corner of his clipboard. David looked at the clock. Practice was supposed to start almost thirty minutes ago. 

Fuck! David’s primary responsibility as assistant coach was to get the players warmed up before practice, so Lyle could get right down to business when he came in. David was never late. 

But Kayleigh died a week ago, which means that Kevin has been in the care of Tetsuji Moriyama for seven days. Wondering where his mom was and when she was coming back. 

David needed to go to Maryland, today. Right now, immediately. 

“Lyle,” David began. He had no time to explain but he needed to explain now unless he wanted to explain later when he came back to USC with a fucking kid. 

“Lyle,” David decided, “I was in the Exy pilot program run by Kayleigh Day and Tetsuji Moriyama…”

* * *

David flew to Maryland first. Getting into Edgar Allen was easy. As it turns out, Evermore was not on Edgar Allan property, and no one at the facility was picking up their phones. They offered to leave a message. 

David asked for directions and went to Evermore himself. The gates were closed and the doors were locked. He waited for two hours and snuck in when a janitor was leaving. 

The place was a half maze and half dungeon. David could feel what little joy he possessed leaching from his soul. 

Eventually, he found the office of the athletic coordinator. The man looked confused like he wasn’t expecting to see David there. David wasn’t expecting to be there. 

As it turns out, Tetsuji was out of the country. Visiting family in Japan. 

David knew better than to mention Kevin. The guy would probably call Tetsuji right after and tell him that David was coming. If anyone knew the truth, it was Tetsuji, and he kept it to himself, so he could keep Kevin for himself. The only son of Exy’s sweetheart and founder. The community and fans were reeling from her death. Crosses and memorials popped up at campuses across the country. Someone started a petition to institute a national day of mourning. 

David met Tetsuji more than once. The guy was hard as stone and about as warm. He wouldn’t keep Kevin out of the goodness of his heart. He would keep Kevin for what he could get out of the kid. David’s kid. Exploited for money and fame. 

David practically flew to the airport. He left his car in the overnight. The charge would be horrendous but he had no time to wait. By the time David landed, almost a day had passed since the lawyer showed up in Lyle’s office. 

Japan was stupidly difficult to navigate, even with the tiny English signs hidden underneath all the Japanese. 

David gave up on three taxis before he found one able to understand his directions. 

The address Kayleigh gave him turned out to be the first Exy stadium ever built. It's sat like a stained glass jewel on the top of a hill just outside an otherwise underdeveloped town an hour and a half outside of Tokyo

The doors were unlocked and even had a receptionist. Mercifully, she spoke English. 

David considered asking for Kevin, but Kevin was just a kid and this was a sporting facility. He might not even be here. 

But Kayleigh gave him this address, so here he is.

David went out on a limb.

“I'm here for Tetsuji Moriyama, and when he tries to put me off, tell him it's David Wymack looking for Kevin Day.” The woman paled and hastened to tap a number into her phone and speak urgent Japanese into her headset.

Less than five minutes later, Tetsuji blew into the lobby faster than David had ever seen him walk. The composed man brushed his hair from his head in a move conspicuously close to a fidget. In his hand, he held an ebony cane with a silver bird’s head handle. 

“Mr. Wymack, I didn't know you were coming to Exyment.”

David refrained from commenting on the dumb ass name. 

_ Tetsuji knows. _ David was never shy of drawing his own conclusions. Kayleigh and Tetsuji were close as family, close enough to know the truth that Kayleigh hid from David. Enough to know that Kayleigh planned to tell him if Kevin ever became an orphan. 

Kayleigh has been dead for a week, and Tetsuji never contacted him. 

So maybe Kayleigh didn't tell him about her plan, even if he knew about David’s paternity. And he still flew Kevin more than halfway across the world. 

_ Tetsuji knows. _

David was hit with a cold, sickening realization. Kayleigh didn’t want Tetsuji to know that David was coming for Kevin so he didn’t have time to hide him. Kayleigh knew what Tetsuji was and she knew how amazing Kevin already was. 

Tetsuji had no plans of giving Kevin up. 

“I'm here for my son,” David said, leaving no room for misinterpretation or argument, “with documents given to me by Kayleigh’s lawyer, awarding me custody of Kevin.” 

_ Tetsuji knows. _

_ Don’t trust Tetsuji. _

He needed to get Kevin out of the country immediately. 

“Now, David, let’s be reasonable. You do not know Kevin, and Kevin does not know you. The boy has been through a traumatic experience already. It’s not a good idea to take him away from everything he knows on top of losing his mother.” 

If there was one thing David knew about parenting, it was not to let some silver-tongued asshole guilt you into doing something bad for your kid by convincing you it’s in their best interest. David knew too many people like Tetsuji. The Moriyama only cared about himself. 

“That's true, but he's still my kid, and Kayleigh wanted him to be with me, so bring him out, or I'll come get him. The law is on my side, and if I walk out of those doors with Kevin today, I'll forget the fact that you were planning on keeping him without a word edgewise. Kevin Day is not yours to keep, Tetsuji.”

“My nephew Riko is particularly close to Kevin. The two of them would be distraught at the idea of separating.”

Cry him a fucking river. 

“Riko can write Kevin a letter.” 

“You have traveled quite a distance. I would be more than happy to arrange a hotel for you.”

“Thanks,” David forced through clenched teeth, “but I already got our tickets,” it was a bold-faced lie but David was good at those. David has brawled in more street fights than he can remember. He could take a stick like Tetsuji down no muss no fuss. Even if the cane was for show. 

David was two seconds away from shoving it up his ass.

“Allow me to arrange dinner, at least.”

“It’s a nice offer, but we’ll manage.” David was not taking a damn thing from this creep. 

The Moriyama looked like he had a lot to say. 

David let the silence speak on his behalf. David would be well within his rights to call the cops if Tetsuji refused to cough up Kevin. David very carefully did not think about how he would go about contacting Japanese cops - or pleading his case to them. The US embassy was always an option. 

Eventually, Tetsuji stepped aside and gestured to the door he emerged from, “after you, David.”

David was careful not to notice the shiny doorknobs and flawless varnished hardwood floors. The place practically reeked of money. 

What kind of athletic facility needed a fucking chandelier? 

David has a momentary existential crisis. Was he really about to grab this kid and take him away from all this just to live in David shitty apartment? David grew up in poverty. He never developed a materialistic side, so he had decent money and few possessions. No luxury. He gave up any potential of it when he decided to devote his life to building up his program. He was still a few years out from implementation but he finally nailed down a school - Palmetto State. It was in South Carolina, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

Parents were supposed to do what was best for their kids, regardless of their own feelings. David wasn’t sure of his feelings - other than inadequacy. He doubts he or his team will be impressive to Kevin after this place. 

Maybe he should just leave. 

Then, they turned a corner, and David saw two kids playing full-contact Exy with adults. They were impossibly tiny in the court, even with their pads. David craned his neck to read the back of their jerseys 

MORIYAMA, 1

DAY, 2

David focused on schooling his reaction. Tetsuji should know better than to put kids in the court with adults in a contact game. Little league was a thing for a reason. They weren’t just playing around out there - it was a scrimmage as intense as any David has seen, if not more. 

David has to bite his tongue to keep from ripping Tetsuji a brand new asshole. 

He stomped down the rage. He needed to calm the fuck down before he freaked out and fucked everything up. He was here for Kevin, and the path of least resistance was the best way to get him. 

David would consider the consequences after he knew that his son was in safe hands. 

His own were the only safe hands David could guarantee. 

The kid was ten years old. His mom just died. David was about to blow up his entire life. The guilt that had become his constant companion since that lawyer handed him that envelope threatened to eat him alive. David had another crisis of indecision. 

Then he watched his ten-year-old child get checked into plexiglass by an adult backliner in full gear. The guy was a beast and he squashed Kevin against the wall like a fly. The rebound was enough for the guy to bounce off the glass. Kevin hit the ground like dead weight. 

In the same moment, the buzzer went off down the field, the Moriyama kid held his racket up in victory. Kevin got up, shook himself off, and made for first fourth to reset the play as if nothing happened. 

David was furious. 

Without thinking about it, he was pounding in the plexiglass, too angry to realize the first impression he was giving Kevin of his character. The players relaxed and turned to the door. 

David snatched the keys from Tetsuji’s belt and unlocked the transparent panel. 

He stormed into the court. The guy that checked Kevin looked positively relaxed. David saw red, and he was suddenly grabbing the face mask of number 12, the six-foot-tall college athlete that body-checked a middle schooler into the wall.

“What the fuck was that? You just body checked a child _ into the wall _ what the fuck are you thinking?”

David was a coach. He knew how to talk an athlete when they fucked up badly enough that he needed to make sure they never did it again. The guy positively shriveled in his shoes. 

“Kevin wants to be the best,” the guy sputtered, “he needs to learn to take a hit.”

“Maybe teach him to pass the ball first,” David spat, “ does that sound a little more reasonable for a middle schooler?”

He nodded and had the nerve to look cowed after defending his actions. David was too familiar with this brand of athlete and that kind of shit was not tolerated on a Trojan court. 

When he got to first fourth, Tetsuji was speaking quick, harsh Japanese at the boys. They both stood tall and rigid, like soldiers at attention. Holding their rackets the same way, helmets hanging by the face grip from identically clenched fists. Kevin was absorbing every word with steadily widening eyes. So, the kid spoke Japanese. He was only ten and he had a better resume than David. He didn’t know if he was proud or offended. 

David had a flash of panic, wondering if Kevin knew English. Kayleigh knew Japanese - he didn’t technically need English in the day to day. 

Tetsuji said something inflammatory because they both reacted at the same time though in vastly different ways. 

Kevin’s helmet and racquet fell from his hands, loud against the court floor. He stared at Tetsuji with huge green eyes and a gaping mouth, like a fish out of water. Riko, Tetsuji’s nephew, threw his helmet across the court in a fit of rage. It hit number 12 in the chest with a thwack. A solid throw for a kid. David didn’t fault him for his aim - or his target. 

Riko started yelling at Tetsuji in furious Japanese. David picked Kevin’s name out of the mess one too many times for comfort. 

The kid had the number one on his mini jersey and the same number drawn on his cheek in permanent marker. David was no psychologist, but that looked unhealthy. 

“What did you say to them, Tetsuji.”

“He said you’re my dad.”

Kevin’s voice had the high, unbroken pitch of childhood but there was something else in his tone. His articulation. He sounded older than he was. Played like it too / took hits like it. David was not sure that was a good sign. 

“And you came to take me away with you,” Kevin said in disbelief, “is that - is that true?”

David didn’t know if Kevin’s nervousness was hesitation, if his disbelief was dread. He decided right then, no lies. He would rather Kevin hate him for the truth than hate him for a lie.

“Yeah, Kevin, it’s true. My name is David,” he coughed, choking on his own spit, “I am your father and I came to bring you back to the states with me. Sorry, I took so long. I coach a college team with stats half as good as yours.”

David’s coaching style didn’t involve a lot of ego-stroking, but he didn’t want to parent like he coached. He didn’t want Kevin to hate him. Hopefully, a complement would help the kid relax. 

Kevin turned to face him full-on, and the pit in David’s stomach became a sinkhole. His jersey was Day 02. On his cheek, the number 2, written with permanent marker. 

Kevin looked at him with glistening, painfully familiar green eyes and David was having a little trouble breathing. 

“You think I’m good?” 

“Kevin, you’re great.” David’s voice was emphatic, willing him to believe it. He really wasn’t exaggerating. His team could learn something from the kid. 

That’s more than enough for Kevin. He ducked his face so the others don’t notice the tears in his eyes and he launched himself at David’s middle like a true striker. David almost went down at the force of the collision.

He hugged Kevin for more than a second. Long enough for Riko to restart his tantrum, which not included pulling in the back of Kevin's jersey and shouting for his attention in Japanese. 

Kevin looked up at David - and David looked down at Kevin, and the moments passed. Riko’s patience thinned and he pulled on Kevin’s jersey with both hands. Kevin’s court shoes slid back but Kevin didn’t move. He had half a foot than Riko and was twice as bulky. Riko wouldn’t be able to move Kevin if he didn’t want to go. To be fair, David was well over six feet. 

A question hovered in Kevin’s green, green eyes. It took David more than a minute to figure out what he meant. The realization was staggering. 

Kevin wanted David’s _ permission _ to go with Riko. The kid was well mannered a single sentence will change his whole attitude. He wasn’t sure that was a good thing. 10-year-olds weren’t supposed to be perfectly mannered. 

David nodded hesitantly and Kevin was smiling. Riko was scowling as he pulled Kevin away by the arm. Kevin kept looking back over his shoulder like he thought David wouldn’t be there the next time he checked. It was startling insecurity for a kid and David didn’t think all of it was due to Kayleigh’s death. 

Tetsuji went to follow them. 

David caught the Moriyama’s arm in a tight grip as he walked by. David leaned in real close. He wanted to see the look on Tetsuji’s face. David wanted Tetsuji to see the unwavering certainty in his eyes. 

“You ever put a rank on my kid’s face again and I will take you to the fucking woodshed, do you understand me?” 

He had no intention of letting Tetsuji in the same room with Kevin again nevertheless on the same court. David knew what those numbers meant. A fucking miron could see what Tetsuji was trying to accomplish with Kayleigh’s memory and Kevin’s talent. The money and power of the Moriyama and the public’s adoration for singular trademarks. Riko and the Ravens would ride Kevin’s legacy all the way to the championship, with Riko in the driver’s seat and Kevin taking instructions without question. 

Tetsuji's head bent forward. He could have been stretching his neck, but David took it as a nod. Dude needed to get his ducking head checked out. 

Kevin came back with nothing but a backpack. He waved to David as he walked to him. David was more than a little relieved to be moving towards the exit. He wanted to get out of this shit hole yesterday. Kevin looked to break into a jog, but Riko had another idea. 

He grabbed Kevin’s collar and slammed him up against the concrete wall next to the exit door and commenced with screaming in his face in front of God and everybody. It was a disturbing reenactment of the last play, except Kevin wasn’t wearing a helmet. David could have sworn he heard the kid’s skull smacking against the stone but he was distracted by the way Kevin shrank under Riki’s ire. 

David ran the last few feet and pulled Riko off Kevin by the collar - served him right. The kid almost strangled himself against his own shirt to yell at Kevin. David grabbed him by the arms lifted him bodily into the air. 

Riko kicked and thrashed in David’s grip, to no avail. David was more than strong enough to hold the brat away from his body as he walked Riko to Tetsuji. David held him out like an offering to the Moriyama.

“I think this is yours.”

David put the kid down without further ceremony and turned back to Kevin. The kid was watching him with those same huge owl eyes like David was something impossible to believe. David put a hand on the kid’s shoulder to guide him out and they left Exyment together. 

Kevin waved goodbye to every person he passed. None of them waved back. 

They got in the car and headed for the airport. David tried to look at the road, but he could feel the intensity of Kevin’s stare on him.

“What team do you coach?”

“USC Trojans.”

Kevin rocketed forward so fast the seat belt locked up on him and smacked his shoulders back into the seat. 

“The Trojans are the best! They don’t always win but not a single player has ever been red-carded! They win the Day Spirit Award last year!” 

Apparently, Kevin was a huge Trojans fan, and David could feel his face heating up. 

“I’ll take you to the next game - hell, I was gonna take you to practice.”

“Please! I want to go to practice - that would be the best thing ever!”

“Deal.”

Kevin was beside himself for the rest of the ride.

They got to the airport and dropped off the rental car. David took Kevin straight to the bathroom and parked him at the sink.

“Wipe that crap off your face.”

“But - two is my number. I can’t take it off.”

“You are not number two,” David tried to keep the anger at bay, lest Kevin think David was angry at him. “You are the son of Kayleigh Day. Don’t let anyone tell you what you’re capable of - understand me? Especially not a Moriyama. Tetsuji can’t hold a racquet to save his life. Your mom checked assholes like that into the wall like it was her job.” 

David was going on a tangent he needed to reel it back in. And probably watch his language. 

“Just,” David put his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, “you are no one’s number two, Kevin.” 

The kid hugged him again, breathing heavily. For once, David was grateful the Trojans were such a huggy bunch. Broke him in so he didn’t freeze stiff when Kevin hugged him. He patted Kevin’s head and shoulders and waited for the kid to calm down. 

After Kevin finally let him go, it was still a fight. The kid really didn’t want to wash his face. David has a feeling Riko said more, and worse, than Kevin was letting on. Kevin stared at the towel in his hand but would not use it. David let him think it through until it became clear that they would otherwise stand there all day. 

“What’s wrong, Kevin?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Riko said he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” David said, glad to know what he’s talking about, “he’s going to miss you, and he doesn’t know how to tell you.”

“I’m going to miss him too.”

“You can miss him without permanent marker on your face.”

Kevin was sufficiently cowed and scrubbed his cheek clean.

* * *

When they landed in California, Kevin demanded to go to the court. David already missed a day of practice, so agreeing wasn’t much of an argument. Really, it would have been more of a pain if Kevin didn’t like Exy. 

The team noticed David’s return almost immediately and swarmed him. Lyle told them he had a family emergency, giving him the trip to get Kevin to figure out what to say. Now David just needed to bite the bullet. 

He put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, as much to keep the kid from launching himself at the team as to appear a good parent. 

“Trojans,”

“Yes, Coach!” The team shouted in unison. David almost winced. They could be a little extra at times. Then, Kevin whispered, “cool,” and David suddenly did not mind.”

“Everyone, this is my son, Kevin. Kevin, the team.”

“Kevin Wymack?” one of the kids said. David winced. The tone said it all. It really was a terrible sounding name. 

“Kevin Day,” Kevin snarked, unimpressed, his arms crossed. He was putting on a brave front, but he was definitely intimidated. David squeezed his shoulder to make sure he didn’t bolt. 

Day, the first family of Exy. The Trojans didn’t know that David trained under Kayleigh Day. He wasn’t one for sharing his personal history unsolicited. His team was going to need some time to pull their jaws off the floor.

“Holy shit, Coach, score!”

Whoever said it was tackled before David could see his face. He would figure it out later. 

A pregnant silence stretched with neither party knowing what to do or what to say. 

The Trojan’s settled for introducing themselves like the were shaking hands with another team. They got halfway through the pack before Kevin lost his patience. 

“Are you going to play Exy sometime today?” 

The Trojans tripped over each other trying to get on the court. David locked the box with a smirk on his face. Kevin might just be a lucky charm.

David is rarely right when he tries to be optimistic. 

The situation escalated quickly. Within fifteen minutes of practice starting Kevin was standing on the bench and shouting at the glass. Pointing emphatically and pounding in the glass when his directions were not followed. 

David was a more than a little intimidated, but he had to admit Kevin was remarkably accurate with his criticism. Not that he would tell him that - he didn’t need encouragement. 

At the end of practice, Kevin gave the team a public dressing down, singling out each starter in turn and outlining their greatest weakness on the court in detail and describing how far they had to go in their training before they could claim any measurable improvement. 

When Kevin seemed to be finished, the team looked at David, hollowed-eyed and incredulous. The wind went out of the Kevin Day novelty sail very quickly. A couple of them watched Kevin like the ten-year-old was holding a loaded gun. 

He was not, but he did have a hell of a mouth on him. 

“What he said,” David figured the team didn’t need any more of a beat down, “change out.” 

By the end of the summer, Kevin was shadowing David’s every step. It took some arguments and even more bribery to get Kevin to cut down on the screaming tangents. The kid ate like a deer and always refused desert. David was definitely melting his brain with the boob tube. 

David eventually limited him to one criticism per player, per practice. It was the only option unless he wanted morale to die a painful and permanent death. Kevin was so appalled by the limitation that he didn’t speak to David for an entire day. 

When he broke his silence, he also broke David’s heart. It was during dinner. The two of them sat on the couch and used the coffee table to eat because David didn’t have a kitchen table. Kevin picked at his salad and wouldn’t even look at his spaghetti. David even remembered the walnuts this time. David relented and asked Kevin what was bothering him. 

“I’m never going home, am I?” 

David considered his response very carefully.

“Where is home?”

“The green Ireland house,” Kevin sniffed, “with my mom.”

“I’m sorry, Kevin, but you can’t go back there.”

“And I can’t see my mom.”

“No, you can’t. Death is permanent. No one can see your mom anymore. I wish it was different, but it’s not. I’m so sorry, Kevin.” 

This news seemed to settle over Kevin’s shoulders before the weight became too much. The kid curled in on himself and started to cry. David watched helplessly for a few seconds before he leaned over and hugged the kid. Kevin’s hand grabbed his shirt. It was an awkward position so David pulled Kevin onto his lap. Kevin wrapped his arms around David’s neck. Eventually, he stopped crying long enouth to whisper in David’s ear.

“Are you gonna die?”

David winced.

“Everybody dies, Kevin, but I’m working very hard on not dying,” David winced. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Too late now. David was in over his head and going under. 

“Am I going to die?”

David didn’t know what to say - he didn’t know kids got existential. Lying wasn't really an option unless he wanted to scar the kid for life. 

“Yes, when you’re older - much older than me.” 

David was nauseated by the idea, but it seemed to calm Kevin. The kid pulled far enough away to look at David’s face.

“Everyone dies,” Kevin said, his big green eyes glossy.

“Everyone dies,” David said, “but I try not to think about it. Not productive.”

That seemed to be enough for Kevin. He finished his dinner for the first time since getting to California.


End file.
